


all the small things

by starstrucktooru



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alive Noah Czerny, alive! noah, bc trc left me thirsty, just little snippets of his life when he was alive, not just bc of all the tears i spilled over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrucktooru/pseuds/starstrucktooru
Summary: Everyone who knew Noah Czerny could tell you one thing. He was like firework, bright and loud and vibrant, always bringing joy to people around him. Everybody fell victim to his charm and energy, which left radiant smiles and boisterous laughs at their wake. They always longed to be around him. They longed for more.





	all the small things

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! I missed Noah too much and I had to get this off my chest bc he's such a great character and we were robbed of him in trc. this is the most self-indulgent thing I've written, and I hope you'll like it as much as I did. if you have any requests about alive! Noah or just want to talk about him, please hmu on my tumblr, I'd love to talk with you!!  
> p.s. it's actually a rewrite of a thingy I wrote in 2017 I think, but I wasn't satisfied with it so I had to redo it

Everyone who knew Noah Czerny could tell you one thing. He was like firework, bright and loud and vibrant, always bringing joy to people around him. Everybody fell victim to his charm and energy, which left radiant smiles and boisterous laughs at their wake. They always longed to be around him. They longed for more.

In the supple dance of light and darkness, when sunrays and shadows aligned in just the right way, highlighting his already prominent features, icy blond hair crowned his hair like a halo, giving him an ethereal look. His eyes were warm and inviting, a shock of blue and grey which held a mischievous yet benevolent gleam, a spark never to be extinguished. And, if you looked closely enough, you’d catch a glimpse of something sharp and intelligent, like he was looking straight through you, unravelling secrets you weren’t yet aware of, but in a blink, it would all be gone and you’d be left wondering if it was just your imagination.

Noah was always a thrill seeker, never shying away from chasing the rush and getting in trouble. And if the trouble wasn’t around, when he felt troubled and he fidgeted in his seat with restless energy, he would sit behind the wheel of his Mustang and bring the trouble to him. Hand clutched around the gear shift he’d speed down the highway, laughing as crisp wind mussed his hair in all directions and adrenaline coursed through his veins like wildfire, urging him to go faster, faster, faster.

But not even that could compare to the rattle of skateboard wheels against the pavement and the burn of scrapes on his knees and arms when he misjudged his skills. Nothing could compare to the tired smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he picked himself up from the ground, wiped the sweat off his face rosy with exertion and pushed for more. And it was never about perfection or boasting around. It was for fun, always for fun and laughs, and telling funny fail stories to his friends. It was about the rush of excitement and that hitch of breath just before a jump, and the sense of pride and victory when he made the jump and overcame his limits.

When the annual family reunions rolled around, he was the favourite and most wanted guest. The real party wouldn’t start until he showed up and stood atop of tables, acting out his overblown impersonations and telling enticing stories. And how could anyone be mad at him when they flocked to him like moths to the flame, soaking in his energy. He would grab the attention of old aunties and uncles and thereby save his younger cousins from an abundance of  _ ‘Oh, do you remember me? I held you when you were only nine months old. Look how much you’ve grown!’  _ His parents beamed with pride, and his sisters always mocked him for hogging the spotlight, but they loved it as much as everyone else, if not more.

He’d get paint and spend hours painting messily while humming whichever sound was on his mind in that moment, remembering to eat only when his stomach growled loud enough to snap his from his thoughts. And only on his way to the bathroom would he notice the stains all over his clothes and the occasional stray smudges on his face and hair. He’d use the paintbrush to connect his freckles in random patterns or tiny constellations and then recite their names to his younger sister as his older one playfully rolled her eyes at his antics.

He would sneak around the house late in the night, after silly cat videos made him forget about time, trying to grab a snack from the kitchen without making a sound, and then run to his bed with a curse under his breath as he accidentally hit a chair in the dark. And when he had the entire house to himself he’d put music on full blast and jump on his bed, trying to play air guitar and drums and sing at the same time, until he’d fall off his bed because his foot got tangled up in the sheets.

He was a firecracker, hyper and always ready for action, a creator with ideas swirling in his mind. He was more. His mind was home, or better yet a cage, of ideas and creations swirling and crashing in their confinement, just waiting for the lock to click undone and unleash them into the world.

And I guess Hades must have missed Persephone terribly so, to have plucked a flower at the peak of its bloom and carried it to his realm, as if to remind him of his lover’s beauty until she finally returned to him.

Now he’s an apparition. He, who was once like the Sun is now as chilling to the touch as his bones which lie buried deep underground. _  
_ _ "I've been dead for seven years. That's as warm as they get.” _

He’s still Noah but somehow dimmed. Solid enough to leave a shape of himself on the bedsheet, not enough to cast even the slightest of shadows. Like an art gallery that was once filled with masterpieces, now robbed of its essence, a stark contrast to the person he used to be.   
_ “Goodbye” _ , he says.  _ “Don’t throw it away.” _

And the spark is killed.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! don't forget to leave kudos and comments! you can always find me at minyardxva.tumblr.com or @minyardxva on twitter <3


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